Dark Mirror

I had avoided "The Wall" in past trips to DC. This time during a monument tour, it ambushed me, grabbed me by my neck and dragged me close. Not completely an unwilling participant (or I wouldn't have gone - then or now), but certainly frightened - both now and then. I am fortunate to have friends that are not embarrassed to hold me until distance returns and I can slip space - that vacuum, that void - back in between again. I was caught up by the total presence of the memorial - the slope to symbolize an abyss and a scar on the land, the chronological listing from first to last (you really feel the impact of the last after passing by the other 10's of thousands of names of the dead), the austerity, the elegance without glorification, the cold that chills every fingertip that reaches out to trace a name. But the greatest impact came from realizing that I could see my reflection - touch my own image - which was just beyond the names on those gloss black panels. Those men that the carved names represent float between me and my other self. Since then and always will.